


What We Leave Behind

by bamfbugboy, Zath



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Historical, Archaeology, Background Genji Shimada/Angela “Mercy” Ziegler, F/M, Friendship/Love, Idiots Argue Over Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, unrequited pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12787224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfbugboy/pseuds/bamfbugboy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zath/pseuds/Zath
Summary: Hanzo Shimada is an esteemed, well-respected archaeologist from the University of London. Jesse McCree is an American mercenary hired to protect Professor Shimada on an excursion through the ruins of ancient Greece. When treasure hunters come to their dig, Hanzo and McCree must hold them off to protect the historical artifacts in the many nearby tombs.Nothing is ever easy. Not when life, death, the past, and the future are all on the line.(McHanzo Indiana Jones/The Mummy/Tomb Raider style AU)





	What We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to give a quick shoutout to my co-author/editor Zath, who helped me at every stage of the way for this piece. I couldn’t have done this without you, so thank you!

"You ever wonder about your life, Hanzo? Like really think about it.” Jesse sighs. “If you made the right choices, if you should've done somethin’ differently?" A pause. "Said somethin’ differently." 

Hanzo looks up from his field notes. He peers across the small temple enclave where they made camp for the night. McCree lays on his bedroll, his right arm still in a makeshift sling after taking a bullet meant for Professor Shimada, esteemed archaeologist from the University of London. He stares up at the temple ceiling, where moonlight filters through a small gap in the stone. The glow of a lantern helps brighten the room. 

Hanzo's heart clenches in his chest. He knows where this conversation is likely headed and where it will end. He feigns ignorance. 

"Why do you ask?" 

Jesse turns his attention away from the stars, shifting to earthly matters. He rubs his left hand, his expression pensive yet solemn. "Just wonderin'..." 

He and Jesse have traveled together for long enough for him to know when something is on Jesse's mind. Five years spent in close quarters, learning each other's nuances. Balancing their personalities took time. Measuring their expectations of one another took even longer. They found a healthy middle area, a respectable give and take of authority over matters concerning their respective fields, but it hasn’t been easy. 

"If you're feeling philosophical because of yet _another_ near-death experience, Jesse--” 

"Yeah, reckon I am."

"I have told you before. You should not be so reckless." 

"Someone has to watch your back. Sometimes you’re too busy diggin’ in the sand or pickin’ at a wall with a toothpick to notice what’s around you. What'll the other professors think if their esteemed chair doesn't come back in one piece from his dig? They'll sure miss him at the fall symposium."

Hanzo scoffs. "We have discussed this _several_ times, Jesse… I can take care of myself." 

"You think there's room for discussion still.” Jesse whistles. “Well, there ain't. Sorry. It's my job to look out for you. You're a good shot with a rifle Hanzo--Lord knows you’re good with a bow--but you can’t watch every angle at once.” 

The words bristle Hanzo's nerves and wound his pride. Yes, earlier today while he was packaging samples of bone fragments and sand to be reviewed in Alexandria with Ana Amari, tomb raiders and mercenaries did strike their encampment. A sniper tried to shoot him from over a ridge. In this field, treasure hunters hope to plunder and loot excavations to sell artifacts on the black market. Yes, his university specifically hired Jesse McCree, a rowdy but skilled sharpshooter from New Mexico to escort him on his digs given potential dangers. 

That didn't mean that Hanzo couldn't defend himself. Though educated at the finest academies in history, he kept his body in peak physical form. He practiced archery and formal hand-to-hand combat. Hanzo knew how to shoot a basic rifle. He felt confident enough, but even the most prepared man can still be caught off-guard. 

"It's important for me to know that you're okay, Hanzo.” Jesse shakes his head in frustration. “I don't know how many times I gotta tell you this. It's been years and you still don’t get it.” 

Anger boils inside of Hanzo. “Well, I do not appreciate you injuring yourself on my behalf!” He shakes his head dismissively. “You act as if your health, your well-being doesn’t matter. You throw yourself before bullets and knives… You think I do not care about you, too? Sometimes I wonder if…” 

Hanzo stops speaking abruptly. He blinks, rendered silent from his own confession. When Jesse meets his gaze, he glances away quickly.

“Go on, finish what you were about to say. You got somethin’ to say then say it.” 

Hanzo pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “I realize it is your job, that the university is paying for you to look after me, but I assure you...”

“It’s way beyond just a job now and you know that. You’ve known that for _years_. You’re a clever, brilliant man, Hanzo. Don’t try feignin’ ignorance with me. Doesn’t suit you.” 

Hanzo opens his mouth to speak, but he has no words to explain himself. He falls silent, shrinks back, retreats behind the cover of his notes. The words blur on the page. How can he even begin to think about the religious practices of the past ancients when he can hardly wrap his head around the present? 

“You _know_ why, Hanzo.” 

Hanzo makes the mistake of looking up and meeting his companion’s gaze. Jesse’s attention remains fixated upon him, longing for Hanzo to say the words he has been waiting years to hear. His heart clenches and stutters in his chest. 

Deep down, the words feel as locked and guarded as the tombs they enter on a daily basis here on Crete. Conflict tears his insides asunder. He wants Jesse and what he has to offer. It would be so easy to give in, to surrender himself to the unknown, to relinquish himself to desire… and yet, he’s not ready to take that leap. 

“Jesse, I’m sorry, truly. It’s complicated.” 

Jesse deflates. Any flicker of hope disappears, like stars fading out of existence. Swallowed by black holes, spiraling into nothingness. 

“It’s fine, Hanzo,” Jesse sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and then lays back on his bedroll. “I get it.” The cowboy pulls the brim of his hat down, over his face. “Like I’ve always said, take all the time you need. Not goin’ anywhere.” 

Jesse falls asleep moments later, leaving Hanzo to face his worries, fears, and regrets alone.

x X x 

Over the past five years, Hanzo knows deep down he has shielded his heart, kept it under tight locks, and thrown away the keys. He has heard his cowboy’s passionate professions of affection countless times. Each time, Hanzo left his answer vague, cryptic, and guarded.

All his life, Hanzo has focused on his work and looked after what remained of his family--his younger brother, Genji. But as the years bled into one another, his work excelled and Genji came into his own and married the person he loved with no hesitation. He married a kind, intelligent Swiss doctor a year ago, and his younger brother has never been happier, with a child on the way.

Hanzo envies him. How could Genji so easily give his heart away? The logic was lost upon the elder Shimada. 

Since the conflict with the raiders, Hanzo has kept a close but secretive eye upon his cowboy companion. His peers showered him with praise for his meticulous attention to detail, but studying Jesse McCree… left him _perplexed_. 

During the daylight hours at their archaeological site, Jesse keeps watch while Hanzo makes impressions of Hellenic text carved into tablets found in the temple. At night, Jesse has been mellow, quietly drinking from his flask of foreign liquor rather than playing his guitar or telling tall tales over a campfire to pass the time. From behind the safety of his journal, Hanzo watches, and he finds himself increasingly filled with sadness. They do not speak. The silence hurts, but he deserves this pain. 

_He_ did this to Jesse. 

In his bedroll, Hanzo stares up at the stars and tries, in vain, to debate the issue with himself. Why, after so long, has he been unable to give Jesse the straightforward answer he deserves? What is he afraid of? How could he, a man who could understand human behavior of the ancient Greeks, feel so lost in the present?

On the eve before they will leave their encampment and take a ship back to Alexandria, Hanzo can no longer stand the ache in his heart. In two weeks, their lives will only grow busier. They may drift apart. If he is to do this, the time is now. 

“Jesse,” he says quietly while they pack equipment together, “we need to talk.” 

“What can I do ya for?”

With the spotlight bearing down upon him, Hanzo freezes. The words catch in his throat. He can speak at a symposium before hundreds but speaking to the cowboy ties his tongue into knots. 

Jesse’s brows purse in worry. “Y’alright there?”

Hanzo clears his throat. “I have thought about the things we leave behind.”

“If you’re worried I’m gonna leave a mess behind in the temple, relax.” 

“No,” Hanzo can’t help but chuckle. “That is _not_ what I meant.” 

“Well, you can tell me anything, Hanzo.” 

“I study the stories of the past, what others have left for us to one day find. I have been thinking, what will I leave behind? What story will the parts of me tell when I have moved on? What will I be remembered for?” 

“You’re a brilliant scholar. Everyone’ll remember that.” 

“I appreciate that, but that… appeals less to me these days.” Hanzo finds himself smiling despite how fast his heart has begun to race. “I have thought about who will I be buried beside, much like those figures I have studied, whose mortal dust shall I share…” 

“Uh…” 

“Apologies. That may seem a bit morbid, but… What I am trying to say is, I have thought about who I want to spend the rest of my life with.” 

“Hanzo… are ya sayin’ you...”

“I love you.” He blushes faintly. “I… I apologize--” 

Jesse’s lips part in shock. “Darlin’ there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for!”

“It took me so long to realize…” 

“I told you a long time ago that I’d wait for you. I meant that.” 

“I want my history to include _you_ , Jesse, as more than just my friend and colleague." 

Jesse smiles and runs a hand over his face. “God damn, you have no idea Hanzo how much I’ve wanted…” He digs into his knapsack and offers a box to Hanzo, who opens it to see a simple silver ring inside. “My grandma left this for me in her will. Hoped I’d give it to someone special.” He kneels in the dirt and takes Hanzo’s hand. “Will ya marry me, Hanzo?"

Words escape Hanzo. He joins Jesse and slips the ring onto his finger. An item is but a trinket until one ascribes meaning to it. Hanzo has held prestigious artifacts that belong in the safety of museums, but all pale in comparison to Jesse’s treasure. He will cherish it for the rest of his life. One day, he will be buried with it for a scholar to find hundreds of years from now. They embrace, their eyes meet. Neither knows who leaned in first, but their lips brush in a powerful kiss as Clio, history’s muse, binds their fates together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this work, please leave kudos or a comment! We enjoy hearing from all of you very much. If you have further questions, comments, or concerns, check us out on tumblr @ [bamfbugboy](http://bamfbugboy.tumblr.com) and @ [ ijaat!](http://ijaat.tumblr.com) and on twitter at [ GaerwenAurell](https://twitter.com/GaerwenAurell) and [ RangerZath](https://twitter.com/rangerzath).
> 
> If you're able to, please consider donating to the charities the zine was for:
> 
> https://truecolorsfund.org/  
> http://stonewalljapan.org/
> 
> Thanks everyone!


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